


all i really know you're where i wanna go

by thesarcasticone



Series: all i've ever known [6]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Slow Burn, part of a series, vows are made
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-15
Updated: 2019-11-15
Packaged: 2021-02-01 22:44:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21437332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thesarcasticone/pseuds/thesarcasticone
Summary: “There’s this freak of a woman outside, Ser.” Jaime heard but didn’t stir from his place, hunched over a war map, trying to make sense of lands he was supposed to already know the topography of. “We found her patrolling the camp, a Stormlands girl-”At that, Jaime perked up; his green eyes curious, a hope building inside him he had not let himself feel since he had heard the dreadful news of Tyrion’s unjustified arrest.Or: Brienne arrives at Jaime's camp, conflicted and hoping to find truth at the end of her journey. She ends up with way more than she had initially thought. Jaime feels conflicted about the whole thing.
Relationships: Jaime Lannister & Brienne of Tarth, Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth
Series: all i've ever known [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1511672
Comments: 34
Kudos: 119





	all i really know you're where i wanna go

**Author's Note:**

> Next part. We jump ahead with this one. We have now arrived into canon-time! A few notes for this one: Jaime is still a bit dumb and even if he doesn't care for his sister as he used to, he still finds himself getting manipulated into throwing Bran Stark out the window. But after said event has vowed to try and stop being his sister's toy. So events have occured almost the same as they do in the first book. 
> 
> The Lannister camp and army which Jaime is leading has just won their first battle. 
> 
> All mistakes are mine. 
> 
> Title from Always Remember Us This Way from A Star is Born.

The camp was large, larger than Brienne would have ever imagined it could be. Stories of war and valor and knighthood were still etched on her mind, had been put there ever since she had been a girl with dreams and wishes which now felt too fanciful for a maiden of eight and ten. Brienne was finding the fantastical stories of her girlhood did no justice to the reality of what she was now witnessing. 

The red of the banners waved with the wind; the smell of dirt, smoak, sweat and shit filled Brienne’s mind with a whirlwind of emotions ranging from disgust to exhilaration. But she couldn’t forget her mission, the reason for having abandoned her father’s small caravan of men, still marching on to Renly’s camp at Bitterbridge. 

She had been plagued with a conundrum which had taken over her entire soul ever since banners from across the realm had been raised in both defiance and pride.

Brienne tried to picture him as she had last seen him; as tall as she had been, with shimmering golden hair and emerald green eyes. He had been beautiful, the most handsome men Brienne had ever been fortunate to know. She could picture him leading his men, riding atop a horse, wielding his sword in combat, taking part in a true fight and not the friendly sparring they had endured through during his five day visit to her island. Her breath hitched, her heart accelerated and her skin flushed. Would he grant her an audience? Would he turn her away? Send her back to Tarth with her head hung low and ridiculed as so many men had tended to do. 

No, he wouldn't. 

He wouldn’t, he had made her a promise; with sincerity in his voice, with amazement in his eyes and with a lingering small kiss on her forehead as he had left her back on Tarth on what seemed to be another lifetime, but had merely been two years in turn. He had promised her a place among his men if she ever desired it. 

Even now, right on the edge of his camp, Brienne didn’t know if the offer once given was what she truly longed for; she didn’t know what the outcome of her visit would entail and thus could not form a decisive opinion. She hadn't ridden into the Lannister camp as an ally, but neither as an enemy. 

The country found itself engulfed in war. Her father had declared Tarth in favor of Renly Baratheon, King in his own right. Brienne had wanted to agree, had wanted to diligently oblige to her father's wishes and decisions; but she had found herself with the inability to lie, to betray a dear friendship she had -even to this day- no proper idea on how it had been forged. 

The land believed the Queen’s children to be bastards, born out of an incestous relationship with her twin brother; with Jaime - _ her  _ Jaime _ . _

For all the ravens and conversations they had sustained throughout the years of their odd friendship, the idea of him maintaining an affair with his twin had never been one to cross Brienne’s mind. Then again, Brienne had never been the cleverest of maids and did tend to easily blind in regard of the people she cared about. 

And so, with her mind made up on account of not finding satisfaction in oddborn rumors, Brienne had asked her father for his leave to allow her to personally go and assist in the war. She had gotten down on her knee, as if she had been a Knight pledging their service to their liege Lord, and had pleaded her cause. She had no near prospects of marriage, not until the Stormlands either forgot or forgave her for the incident with old Ser Humfrey. She would not be one to be able to bring honor upon House Tarth by way of a sensible marriage, but she could try and win it some other way -the  _ only _ way she truly felt she knew how. 

Her father’s eyes had been calm, pensive, saddened. In the end, he had given Brienne his consent, making her swear a promise: that she would eventually return to him, that she would not leave him to endure another winter by himself. With a heavy heart, Brienne had kissed her father's cheek and had proceeded to make the one vow she truly could not ensure she would be able to fulfill. 

She had left home with a heavy heart and an excited stomach. 

Now- now the feelings intensified as she cautiously watched three horses approach to where she was waiting up on her own mount. She straightened her back with new found courage, calmly resting her hand over the hilt of her trusted sword, one laced with fine red rubies and bright sapphires, with a golden hilt which shone as bright as the midday sun. 

“Fuck me, that’s a woman.”

“Shut your mouth you imbecile- oh fuck, that  _ is _ a woman. I think. What brings you here, girl?”

Brienne ignored the given sneer and the subsequent questioning glances, for she knew she couldn’t show fear or hurt in front of these men; Lannister men who could either kill or help her. 

“My name is Brienne of Tarth,” she began, “I arrive here seeking an audience with Ser Jaime.” 

Their laughs would have hurt more if she had not been expecting them. The three soldiers circled her, their eyes leering over her as they took in her form, her horse, her sword. 

“Fancy yourself some kind of Knight,  _ girl _ ?”

“Do us a favor and get lost before someone else here gets wind of you and your cunt. These men have just won a battle, you see? Most of them are still buzzing with unspent energy for a good fuck.”

Brienne’s face reddened at the vulgarity. 

“If you would please inform Ser Jaime, Lady Brienne has arrived and wishes for an audience with him.” She repeated her petition, her stance firm and stubborn. 

The snickers died down as they came to realize Brienne was serious in her request. 

“What kind of power do you think you have? You’re a woman, a girl who has just ridden into the heart of a Lannister campaign, with a Stormlands coat of arms and the most fucking ugliest of faces in the whole of Westeros. We decide what’s gonna happen to you. If we bring you directly to Ser Jaime, or if we have a little fun with you first.”

“Take her yourself. Seven hells I’m fucking that.”

The third man, the smallest of the three and the only one who had remained quiet throughout the entire exchange, moved his horse over to Brienne’s left, to where her Lannister decorated sword calmly rested against her hip.

“We take her to Ser Jaime,” the man spoke, glaring at his companions as he finished his command, “and pray I don’t tell our commander how you’ve threatened the poor creature. She's high born you dimwitts.”

“Thank you.” Breinne called with much more confidence in her tone than she felt in current possession of.

“Don’t thank me yet, my Lady. If you indeed are one of the Stormlands’ spies, the appointed Lord Commander will show you no mercy, I promise you that.”

Brienne would have not expected anything less from Jaime. 

Soldiers and Knights gazed upon her as she rode across their camp, guarded by the three Lannister men who had encountered her on the outskirts of their settlement. 

Brienne tried her hardest to ignore the stares, ones she had once thought would eventually dissipate. She was more than used to the disapproving glances, had been ever since she had started towering over every other kid around her age back on Tarth; it did not make them any less uncomfortable to receive. 

She had traded the skirts for mail, but just as out of place as she had felt and appeared in delicate embroidery -she now looked odd donning borrowed armor and pretending to be someone worthy of a knighthood. 

Jaime’s tent was larger than most, a tent fit for the commander of the camp, a tent fit for a King. She tried her hardest to not feel intimidated by the sounds and smells, by the questioning looks a couple of the men threw her way as she descended from her horse without fault or help. 

She stood taller than everyone, towering well over a few inches over some. Her face was large and homely, her hair short and brittle, her eyes open and alert, trying her hardest to exude a confidence which the closer she got to the tent’s entrance, the further away from her reach she felt it becoming. 

“Stay,” the men ordered. Brienne obliged. 

She could not properly make out the words, but Brienne could hear their voices; both of the soldiers' rough and slightly common tones mixed in with a third voice, rich and deep and exactly how she remembered it sounding.

“There’s this freak of a woman outside, Ser.” Jaime heard but didn’t stir from his place, hunched over a war map, trying to make sense of lands he was supposed to already know the topography of. “We found her patrolling the camp, a Stormlands girl-”

At that, Jaime perked up; his green eyes curious, a hope building inside him he had not let himself feel since he had heard the dreadful news of Tyrion’s unjustified arrest. 

“Are you certain, she’s from the Stormlands?”

“Girl claims to be Selwyn Tarth’s heir. Beastly looking woman she is, tall too.”

Jaime gave a soft chuckle, a wry smile taking place upon his face. Brienne of Tarth was so much more than tall and mullish, yet he could see how the girl wouldn't allow anyone the privilege of knowing her true character beyond first impressions. The maid had always been shy, ever since she had been a young girl playing at swords. 

“She claims she knows you, Ser.”

“Yes, she does,” he answered, “although I haven't seen her in- oh, about two years? She was as tall as I was back then. Six-and-ten, if I recall correctly.” He did, he knew because even if he hadn’t set his eyes upon her freckled and homely face in said time, their correspondence had continued. Brief letters and notes exchanged with few, but honest words, carrying inquisitions about each other’s well being, as well as teases and suggestions when needed. Jaime withheld a grimace as his mind recalled the last letter he had sent the Lady. He had penned it in a rush and apparent distress, much like the state he had once imagined she had written in when she had confessed about Ser Humfrey and her fallen betrothal. He had sent the raven from Winterfell as he had stood over Bran Stark’s broken -yet very much alive- body. Shame had been apparent in his desperate wording, and thus had not been surprised when he had returned to King’s Landing and had found no raven and no letter awaiting his return. 

The Lannister soldier threw him a quizzical glance with a hestiance Jaime had been growing used to experiencing in the few weeks he had been leading his father’s men in war. When not stopped by the proprieties of society and when the constant threat of meeting your imminent death in an open field was present, men became bolder and far more rash. The once whispered  _ kingslayer _ and  _ oathbreaker _ could now be heard with more vehemance than Jaime had ever pressenced. 

“Send her in. You can take your leave.”

Jaime waited, still in his seat, eyes trained on the entrance of the tent in which he had been sleeping under for gods knew how many nights now. 

She entered it with sure footing, but did managed to stumble as she fully crossed the threshold. She appeared exactly as he remembered her, and yet nothing like he expected. She had grown into her last few inches, now standing taller than he had ever seen her; her hair was still brittle and pale, yet it was cut shorter than he remembered, now barely gracing her shoulders. It suited her better, he took notice. Her shoulders were still wide and strong, but now clad in armor; a blue tinted piece of metal which brought out the one feature Jaime had always considered beautiful on the maid. Her eyes glistened with the innocence of a young girl and the fierceness of a warrior. She was Brienne as she presented herself in her letters. Strong and shy, tall and demure, the sun and the moon in one entity.

“Ser Jaime,” she bowed. 

Jaime grinned and stood to greet her with a bow of his own; his mouth twitching with amusement, a tease dancing on the edge of his tongue. 

“I see you’ve forgone the curtsey in favor of a bow.”

The maiden gave a slight flush, but Jaime found himself pleasantly surprised as she stood her ground, her blue eyes determined not to scurry away from his own gaze as they had done so in the past. 

“My feet never did master the art of it without fumbling for balance.”

“And yet you dance with a grace every maiden in the Seven Kingdoms would wish to possess, when you wield a sword.” It wasn’t a question, but a stated fact, one delivered without any hint of mockery or disapproval. 

Jaime cooked his head to the side as if the miniscule change in angle would help in his dissection of her person. He slowly made his way around the table where he had been sitting. 

Determined was the word to best describe her. “You look well, Brienne. Far better than the last time I saw you. I see no traces of red in your eyes. And there seems to not be a hint of you wanting to hit me bloody for tripping you on our way to the docks on the day of my departure.”

The maiden blushed with a mix of both embarrassment and fury, Jaime had no doubt. 

“It was not an honorable jest, _Ser_.”

“Jests are not meant to be honorable,  _ my Lady _ .” She looked on, her eyes still on him, her body still unmoving with her hand resting on his gifted sword. She looked every bit the part of the Knight he had once sworn to become and one she desperately longed to be. The image she presented should have inspired pity in him, but his own dreams and memories would not allow the emotion to surge. 

“Why are you here, Brienne?”

Not Lady, not Ser, but her given name, uttered with a caring sentiment which was hard to ignore and made Brienne intake a measured breath. 

He looked as golden as she remembered, but had somehow managed to grow even more handsome. It was as if the passing years had somehow made him younger, not older. He appeared stronger, firmer,  _ prettier _ ; the striking image of The Warrior himself. Girls and maidens around Tarth would go on and gush about the youth of men and how the passing of the years made them weaker, softer. Looking upon Jaime, Brienne couldn’t help but think those girls to be fools. 

A fool was what Brienne felt like, for how could she begin to explain her current predicament; the one thought and question which had invaded her mind, and had molded her actions for the past months? She held his friendship in the highest regard, if only because she had no other relationships to compare it to. Jaime Lannister had found a way into her life and her mind, making her question everything she believed in; everything she had once thought simple and straightforward, had now grown to become complex and rich. Her small world had been made larger by his presence. 

She feared for the delicate balance which engulfed and ruled the friendship they had created; but fear was not an emotion Brienne would ever allow to shape her actions or her decisions. She had come to the Riverlands with a purpose, and she would see it through and act according to the answer- or so, she hoped she would. 

Seeing her slight hesitancy to answer, Jaime continued, “Tarth has declared for Renly, has it not? Now you see, that’s how I know Stannis is way in over his head. If good old Lord Selwyn prefers the younger stag to the older.”

“Lord Renly has been the Lord of the Stormlands for most of his life, he knows how to rule a Kingdom. Lord Stannis doesn't.”

“See, now  _ that _ sounds like your father speaking, not you. A rehearsed speech, Brienne, from  _ you _ ? One who did manage to kick me in the shins for suggesting you hit like a tavern wench, right under your father’s table?”

Brienne graced him with a singular blush, one red and blotchy, doing nothing for her already homely and ugly face. Jaime couldn’t help the smile he gave her. She was a breath of fresh air among the heavy weight of a war that most of the Kingdoms did not want to fight. 

“Tarth has declared for Lord Renly. My father has sent over arrows and a few hundred men we could spare from our own patrols.”

“Tarth, huh?” Jaime took a step towards her, his back as straight as he could make it, pleasantly enjoying having to slightly tilt his head up in order to meet her eyes. The last time he had seen her she had been his height. She was taller now, broader too. Arms and legs harboring muscle he knew could and  _ would _ be put to good use in a fight. “What about you? To whom are you sworn to, Brienne? Not Renly, if that were the case you would have already been there, proud as you are, trying to disarm and win your way into the highest ranks amongst his soldiers. Not for Stannis, then? Or perhaps The King in the North?” 

She squirmed as he went over the declared Kings of the realm. 

“Joffrey?”

“I haven’t pledged my sword to anyone.” A curt answer. 

“Why?” Why had she suddenly appeared in his camp? Why had she abandoned her house -her  _ family _ ? Why did she look at him as if she could efficiently read every single part of his soul? 

“Because I find myself unable to make a decision based solely on rumours and lies. All I want is the opportunity to pledge my sword to a righteous Lord and be granted the opportunity to honorably serve him.”

“And to become a Knight of the Seven Kingdoms, let’s not forget about that particular feat.”

“Ser, I beseech you to not mock.”

“I am not,  _ Lady _ Brienne; I am merely repeating your mantra, one which I have heard before.”

“I was a silly girl-”

“And yet your girlish dreams stand. They’re good dreams, Brienne.”

Silence engulfed them. Brienne worried her bottom lip as she took him in; closer than he had been before, with his head slightly tilted upwards in both defiance and need, for she had grown taller than him during the past two years. She had suspected it, but it now became painfully obvious and it made Brienne feel uncomfortable. He had always been taller and stronger than her; one of the few people she had met at six-and-ten who had still looked and felt older than she had been. For the first time in the presence of Ser Jaime Lannister, Brienne felt the freakish mule people called her out to be. The feeling unnerved her. She had never been bothered by her appearance when near him before.

“Let’s not play games, Brienne; we’ve known each other too long for such things, have we not?”

“We have,” she gave him an answer; honesty in her soft tone, caring affection in her eyes. 

“My men think you are a spy from one of the Baratheon campaigns. Now, I don’t believe you stupid enough to enter a Lannister camp fresh off a victory if you were fighting for any of the oposing sides. I can see it in your eyes, Brienne; you’re holding something back, do not on my account.”

She fidgeted, her hand going in circles around her sword’s golden hilt. 

Jaime ignored the misplaced pleasure it gave him knowing he had given her the ruby and sapphire-studded blade. 

“I wanted to write, but found myself unable to. You’re my friend, Jaime, as odd as it might be. Lords Renly and Stannis have called their banners and have risen arms against the crown on one  _ particular _ claim,” she paused in order to keenly observe his reaction. 

His green eyes narrowed, his mouth thinned, his jaw clenched, and his shoulders slumped. It was an answer on itself, but Brienne had already begun her inquiry and wouldn’t stop halfway. 

Jaime should have known, he was probably the only person in the entire realm, aside from her own father, who held the precious knowledge of how the maid’s brain functioned; what she valued above all else and what she longed for most in life. She had shared secrets in trust and innocence, her life presented and entrusted to a man who only carried dishonor and pain wherever he walked. A pure soul had somehow misjudged him enough to allow him to continue to be a part of her life, and Jaime had never dared to question the fact more than it had been necessary for had known his conscience would not have allowed him to continue their acquaintance. But Jaime had been selfish, selfish in a way he had rarely been granted the chance to be, ever since he had been born a Lannister of Casterly Rock. 

Jaime found himself with the hazard of having to make what felt like the most important decision of his life. Calm, trusting, honest, blue eyes staring at him; open and inviting, astonishing eyes which seemed to know everything about him yet nothing at all. Her eyes waited for an answer, and as Jaime allowed for her gemlike orbs to completely consume him, he found the answer had already been chosen for him. 

“They’re mine,” honesty filled his voice, a rawness seeping from him which Jaime was certain only ever poured out of him when in the maid's presence. “All three are mine.”

He heard her intake a sharp breath, watched her blue eyes remain as calm and as beautiful as the waters surrounding her home. 

Brienne's brain felt dizzy, her heart small, and yet she refused to grant him the satisfaction of seeing her crumble in front of him. She had come for an answer, for the truth which was now being presented to her. She had naively believed the answer to the question which had stirred the entire country in rebellion would help her choose her own path, but same as with everything Jaime had ever done in her life, it seemed to only manage to confuse her even further. 

It was a secret, a delicate thread of information that if knowledge of it ever got outside the ever suffocating tent they currently stood inside of, would mean the ruin of both House Lannister and the Kingdom as they knew it. For  _ years _ he had kept it, had carried on an affair that went beyond simple adultery. 

A bastard born out of incest sat the Iron Throne. 

Jaime was aware of the weight his words carried, Brienne could tell, with the way his eyes never left hers, the way his jaw was set as if he were about to meet a challenger at a tourney. Brienne had wanted the truth, but had not stopped to consider what she would do with such, once she had obtained confirmation of that which she had dreaded most to be true. Had she been so naive as to think he would have denied the rumors? Or had that been her girlish infatuation with the one man who had shown her the respect she had always longed for, driving her thoughts and desires?

It was a secret meant to make or break Kings, and he had just trusted her with it. Just as he had previously trusted her with the truth of what had occurred during the infamous sacking of King’s Landing, and with the weight of carrying the death of a maniacal King on his shoulders. 

She kept his secrets close and safe, just as he held hers with respect and honor. It was the foundation of their relationship. 

Oh but how Brienne wished to able to hate him just then; to be able to unsheath her sword and challenge him; to judge and sentence him for the acts committed. Brienne found she couldn't, not when she  _ knew _ his character almost as well as she knew her own; not when he stood in front of her, looking at her as if he  _ expected _ her reaction to be one of aversion and disgust. 

Jaime stood in wait, blinking every so often, carefully watching her internal fight against her own moral and ethical code of honor. He should have felt bad for making her squirm and sweat, but a part of Jaime, the one who suspiciously kept chanting the word  _ kingslayer _ in the back of his mind, felt a sense of misplaced pride in knowing he was the one responsible for awakening the maid of Tarth to the conundrums of life. The world wasn’t as black and white as the songs painted it to be, it was a lesson he had been trying to teach her for years. Looking at the calm but steady storm brewing behind her blue eyes, he could see the conclusion of his persistent lessons happening in front of him. 

She cursed him, cursed him over and over again with words Brienne had never even dared to think in regard to someone -much less  _ him _ . Tears gathered in her eyes, her chest felt heavy and her limbs tense. A clash of feelings she knew were ridiculous to uphold, manifesting themselves within her; feelings which threatened to get expressed in the way of fallen tears. 

Neither moved, both heavily breathing across from each other, observant of the other's reaction to the uttered confession. Green eyes met blue in a silent debate.

_ ‘I’m sorry.’ _

_ ‘Damn you.’ _

_ ‘It’s not that simple.’ _

_ ‘Damn you.’ _

_ ‘You’re an impossible creature.’ _

_ ‘Damn you’ _

_ ‘I’m a kingslayer, an oathbreaker, a dishonorable man.’ _

_ ‘Damn you’ _

_ ‘What did you expect?’ _

_ ‘Damn me and my foolish maiden heart’ _

_ ‘I've never deserved your friendship’ _

The sounds of Brienne unsheathing her sword broke the tense air which had surrounded them. 

Jaime’s eyes went wide as he took her in; tall, angry, confused, sword in hand, eyes crystal blue and determined as ever. He didn’t feel fear, not an ounce of it. She looked glorious in her blue armor, with the scant light coming in from the tent’s opening casting an almost soft halo around her frame, making her look as if she were an ethereal being; a goddess which had yet to be discovered and granted devotion to. For the first time since Jaime had ever set eyes on the girl, he dared to think her beautiful. 

With a fierce determination and still a conflicted look in her eyes, she laid her sword at his feet; a soft thud sounding as the strong metal hit the soft ground. The sound got followed by Brienne’s crackling knees as she knelt before her most trusted friend. 

She choked back a sob, sent a prayer to both the Father and to her own father, asking for forgiveness, asking for guidance, but most of all- asking for bravery. 

“Brienne…”

“My sword is yours, as I am yours, Ser. Not your house, not your King, but  _ yours _ . I will shield your back and keep your counsel and give my life for yours, if need be. I swear it by the old gods and the new.”

Her voice trembled, she could not help it, but her eyes never faltered. Her eyes remained firmly set on him; honest and unyielding. She couldn’t pledge herself to his King, to his  _ son _ . She couldn’t pledge herself to Lord Renly, and she held no trust for Lord Stannis and the rumors of his new preferred red God. The only person Brienne found herself with the ability and conviction to trust, was  _ him _ ; Jaime Lannister, Kingsguard Knight and beloved friend.

“You-” Jaime stood aghast, without proper guidance as to how to even respond to such loyalty, such -care. 

“You once made a promise to me, that if I ever wanted to get out of Tarth I should only need to write you and you would do anything in your power to grant me a respectable place among your family’s ranks. I don’t ask for rank, or preference, just the opportunity to serve-”

“A good and honorable Lord. Gods, Brienne; I’ve just told you I’ve been fucking my sister for  _ years _ ; that my  _ bastard _ sits the Iron Throne. I am many things, my Lady, but honorable is not one of them.” How could she be real? How could she still look at him from behind those wide eyes and still see a Knight from her silly girlish dreams, instead of the monster he had somehow allowed himself to become? 

“You’ve done honorable deeds, Ser; deeds few people carry the knowledge of-”

_ Brienne, you’re the only one with whom I’ve ever shared such tales.  _

“-but you’ve also broken vows and trust. You’ve told me so throughout most of our acquaintance, our- our friendship. You’ve always been honest and have never hesitated in reminding me of the world’s dichotomy.” She spoke as truthfully and openingly as she could, her voice strong and sure of itself, finding a courage which she had never presented in front of anyone before, but felt almost natural to demonstrate in front of the one person whom she has always known would not be prompt to misjudge her. “The realm has  _ five _ crowned Kings, and yet the only person I find myself capable of trusting with my own honor is you, Jaime. You’ve never given me cause to distrust you. Even now you choose to tell the truth instead of masking it with a clever lie we both know you are more than capable of constructing.” 

“I truly don’t deserve your friendship.” He didn’t. He would never cease to remind her of the fact. 

“Then at least accept my service.”

“I am too selfish for that, I am afraid,” he muttered under his breath, before raising his voice as strong and sure as he could make it sound, “and so, Brienne of Tarth, even if I don’t understand  _ how _ this will even work; I vow that you shall always have a place by my- hearth and meat and mead from my table, but above all else, I pledge to ask no service of you that might bring you into dishonor -ever. I swear it by the old gods and the new. Arise, Brienne; please.”

The smile she gave him was soft, her hands still trembling from the rush of emotions she had and was continuing to experience. 

Jaime couldn’t help his reaction and offered the young woman a kind smile in return, one which quickly morphed into a grin filled with more mirth than tenderness, but still held a caring disposition in it. 

“I’ve no idea what to do with such novelties. I don’t think I’ve ever heard of a Kinsgaurd with his own sworn sword.”

Brienne knew his tease to be one not meant to mock, but merely amuse. She could still read his green eyes with the same efficiency she had managed to acquire back during his stay on Tarth, back when she had been his pupil and he her teacher. 

“I believe you were the one who once told me to not stop breaking societal norms. You believed in armoring a four-and-ten year old girl. I find it only fitting you are made to deal with such consequences.”

Her voice did not carry a tease, but wasn’t filled with any kind of depreciation. It was honest, as it had always been whenever she broached the subject of her life and her chosen path. Jaime had more than grown to admire such steadfastness, such honor. 

“I guess I did bring this on myself. Can’t say I regret it. You are one of the most honorable people I’ve ever met, if not the most honorable. You’re also bloody well good with that blade. It will be more than a privilege to have you fighting alongside me, Brienne.”

Brienne beamed, a blush coming to adorn her face in a blotched manner which Jaime still could not truly comprehend the reason for his finding such an awkward feat so endearing. 

“The sentiment is shared, Jaime. Just know that I try to not make idle promises, or vows. I meant what I’ve said -every word. I am not fighting for King Joffrey, I am not fighting for your father, or your family. I’m fighting for you, and for me; and for that which I know to be true and just.”

Jaime had never seen the maid so sure of anything. More than enrapturing him with such a feat, for the first time in their acquaintance, the Lady surged the feeling of fear within him. Fear not for himself, but for her. This was war, and no matter how proficient the maid was with her sword, she was still young, still innocent, still a child of a warm summer. 

“You wouldn’t be the Brienne I’ve known if you didn’t.” Jaime offered her a quick smile, and a quick nod of his head, hoping the disconcerning thoughts would soon dissipate. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow, then? Ser Addam will show you to your quarters. Be warned we begin traveling at sunrise, we’re making our way towards Riverrun.”

Her blue eyes shone with something close to mirth, the most playful Jaime had ever seen them. “Until tomorrow then,  _ Ser _ .”

“My  _ Lady _ ,” he graciously teased back. He gave her a bow and a quick wink which he was satisfied to see brought on a last rewarding blush on her face before she turned to leave him in his tent, alone with his thoughts and his sins.

**Author's Note:**

> Still playing the 'it's my au card'.
> 
> So funny story about this: when I first thought about this alternate timeline, there were two scenes whihc immediatly popped into my mind: the first time they met when she was still a child, and this one, when after having known Jaime for years, Brienne finds herself unable to pledge her sword and fealty to Renly and thus ends up at Jaime's camp, demanding an explanation for the rumors regarding the Baratheon heirs. 
> 
> Those two scenes were the first ones whichc I ever plotted out and from there everything just spiraled out of control. 
> 
> This was supposed to have been up on Tuesday, but real life got really real and prevented me from writing and editing and so it's now Thursday. 
> 
> With luck and patience and the correct muse, I hope I can have the next instalment up by the end of next week. 
> 
> As always, thanks to everyone who has read, commented or left kuodos.


End file.
